


you are my sweetest downfall

by somerdaye



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somerdaye/pseuds/somerdaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way Zayn laughed was kind of ridiculous, but Liam would be lying if he said it wasn’t his favourite sound in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are my sweetest downfall

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this on livejournal ages ago, and now i'm just moving things over x.

“I think you’re wrong,” Liam said, tilting his controller like it would help steer his kart around Zayn’s.

Zayn scoffed, and though Liam didn’t dare turn his eyes from the screen when he was so close to victory, he knew there was an irritated look being sent his way. He threw a banana, but Zayn swerved in time to avoid it.

“Well, I think I’m not wrong,” Zayn said. “I’d even go so far as to say I think I’m right. I actually think that you’re wrong, yeah, and you should stop arguing the point.”

“I’m only saying it doesn’t make any sense,” Liam said. One lap to go.

The side of Zayn’s foot stretched out to knock his own, which distracted him enough that he missed a rainbow ramp. Now Zayn was farther ahead, and it looked like Liam wouldn’t be winning this game after all. Damn it. He hadn’t won a game in ages, and he was starting to become a sore loser of the Harry variety.

“It makes perfect sense,” Zayn said, a little delayed.

“No, it doesn’t. You’re _wrong_ , Malik, and you should just admit it.”

The tiny virtual karts crossed the finish line, Zayn winning by a large margin. He kicked Liam again and this time Liam turned to him, meeting his stubborn gaze with one of his own.

“Of course cavemen would win,” said Zayn, “the astronauts don’t stand a chance, especially without any weapons! They have, like, morals and values and all the shit that comes with living in society, but cavemen just go on pure animal instinct. Cavemen would so win that fight.”

“No,” Liam insisted. “Astronauts are _cool_ , and much more advanced than your stupid cavemen.”

Zayn sighed heavily and slammed his head on the back of Liam’s sofa, all annoyed and long-suffering -- this wasn’t a new argument at all, even if the others had given up on it a long time ago. All he said in response was, “No.”

“The only way we’ll ever settle this,” said Liam, “is with a TARDIS, anyway. And we may be rich but I don’t think we’re _that_ rich, so can we just call it a draw and be done with it?”

“All right,” Zayn said grudgingly. He started a new game of Mario Kart, even though (or maybe because) Liam was sucking majorly today. They got through two and a half laps of Rainbow Road -- or as Niall called it, the Pride Parade From Hell -- before Zayn added, in a mutter, “You are wrong, though.”

Liam didn’t bother with a verbal response, just used a lightning bolt to make Zayn’s characters tiny and pulled ahead of them.  


  
\---

  
It was the weirdest thing in the world, and Liam wondered if it was something he’d just have to get used to for the future.

“She knew who we were,” he said to Zayn for the umpteenth time, still thrown off-kilter by the young girl who’d asked for their photo and autographs. Zayn, not bothering to take his mouth off the straw of his smoothie, merely rolled his eyes.

“We’re on national television, you twat, course somebody’s recognised us.”

He was trying to sound nonchalant, but Liam could see the shake of his hand, the one that usually meant he was in need of a fag, and he knew it must have been just as weird for Zayn.

“So strange,” Liam said fervently.

Another eye-roll, and Zayn said, “It won’t be the last one, mate. Soon enough they’ll be crawling all over us.”

“That’s -- actually really scary, Zayn.”

“Welcome to our new life,” Zayn said, spreading his hands wide. The action caused his straw to slip out of his smoothie, but he caught it between his teeth before it fell in a pathetic imitation of his vice. “Dreams coming true and all that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam said. “Yeah, of course, but that was _weird_.”  


  
\---

  
Pre-show jitters never really went away.

Harry was in the bathroom trying not to throw up; Niall was chatting to some tech guys, his laughter more than a little hysterical; and Louis had disappeared a while ago, to pull a prank or check on Harry or sneak out the window, Liam wasn’t entirely sure. He and Zayn were still sitting on the impeccably clean carpet with their backs against the wall, like they had been since they were proclaimed ready by their stylists.

“I thought this was supposed to get easier,” Liam said, rubbing his hands on his trousers.

“I was told the same thing, Li,” said Zayn with a dry laugh. “Looks like we’ve been lied to, eh?”

“Yeah, we have,” Liam said. “We’ve been doing this for years, man, why the hell are we still so nervous about going on stage?”

Zayn shrugged, shifting as he did to press the side of his arm against Liam’s in a welcome show of camaraderie. Liam appreciated it -- sometimes he forgot that he wasn’t the only one going through all of this. “I guess because we know we can still suck.”

“We _can_ still suck, can’t we?” Liam asked, spirits lifted. They didn’t have to be perfect at all. He grinned at Zayn, who grinned back, fringe artfully arranged over his forehead.

“They haven’t put a ban on sucking.” Zayn paused, then added, “Yet.”

“I think there’s one in Louis’ contract, but that’s a different sort of sucking,” Liam joked, pleased when Zayn laughed, surprised and rasping like he did whenever Liam said something he didn’t expect. Niall looked over with a smile, not needing to hear the joke to join in on their amusement. He caught Liam’s eye and winked before turning back to his conversation about what sounded like sound equipment and nachos.

When he noticed the exchange, Zayn looked around the room in puzzlement.

“Where is Louis, anyway?”

“I think he might have run away,” Liam said, nudging Zayn’s shoulder with his own.

“What a good idea.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Liam was going to talk about it some more, maybe plan an escape route and discuss possible destinations, but Louis came in just then like he was Bloody Mary, summoned by the sound of his name, his arm slung around a pale but smiling Harry, and told them it was time to go.

“Ready to suck?” Zayn asked, standing and brushing invisible dirt off his trousers.

“Aye-aye,” said Liam.

He accepted the hand Zayn offered to help him to his feet, ignoring Niall’s “Well, that’s pessimistic” and Harry’s “Who’s sucking what now?”

He didn’t want to let go of Zayn’s hand, but it was sort of necessary as they were supposed to come in on opposite sides of the stage. As the first chords started and the screaming got loud enough to deafen them all, Liam looked across at Zayn and shot him a wide smile.  


  
\---

  
“Are you X Factor?”

Liam looked up, hoping the person was talking to him so he didn’t look like an idiot. Luckily he was; a boy who looked to be around his age was hovering by the empty seat in front of Liam and blinking at him.

“Er, yeah, I’m Liam,” he said, waving a little. The boy smiled.

“Zayn,” he said, before glancing around the McDonald’s that was crowded by contestants, being the nearest fast-food place to the studios and all. “Can I, um?”

“Oh, yes, go ahead,” Liam said. He moved his tray so there was room.

Without fuss, Zayn put his own tray down and slid into the empty seat, still looking at Liam in a curious sort of way.

“So, what song’re you doing, Liam?”  


  
\---

  
Liam was seventy percent sure that Zayn was sparkling.

“Are you a vampire?” he asked, inquisitive. His voice sounded hilariously slow to his own ears, so he repeated the question in his best Cheshire accent.

Judging by the look on Zayn’s face, his best wasn’t very good at all.

“No, Hazza, I’m not,” Zayn snorted.

“Just making sure,” Liam said, still imitating Harry rather terribly. “You’re all -- all sparkly and junk.”

“Am I?” Zayn checked his bare arms.

“You are,” Liam said.

“I don’t think I am, actually.”

“Well,” said Liam, “you’re sparkly to me.”

With a thoughtful expression, Zayn said, “I think you had too much, mate.”

“Did not,” Liam said. “I had less than you.”

“Yeah, but should you be having any at all is the question,” Zayn said. He gave Liam a small frown.

Liam flopped down on the unfairly comfortable hotel bed. He wondered how their mattresses were always so much more comfortable than any other he’d slept on, and also if he could manage to steal one without being arrested. He was certain Louis would help him, and by extension Harry would, and Cher might find the whole thing funny enough to distract the hotel guards -- there were guards in hotels, right? Liam thought, if there weren’t, there ought to be -- with her giggles and breasts. There would have to be someone to help with the heavy lifting, too -- Wagner, maybe, or Matt.

“I don’t think my kidney is actually affected by weed,” Liam said. “Will you help me steal this mattress?”

Collapsing beside him so their legs were overlapping, Zayn laughed. Liam loved the sound of it; he wished he could record it, make it his ringtone, keep it away from the rest of the world.

“I was talking morals, not kidneys, but I will definitely help you steal this mattress.” Zayn snuggled into Liam’s shoulder, and he smelled like cigarettes and pot and hotel shampoo. It was a lovely combination, very Zayn, and Liam told him he ought to market the scent if they ever got really famous. Zayn promised to, even though he was fairly certain it would be illegal, kind of like stealing mattresses from hotels.

Liam said, “Yes, but Cher’s boobs will help us get it out undetected,” and Zayn said, “I just bet they will,” and then they were quiet and Liam almost preferred that, the quiet. That was what he and Zayn were all about -- quiet.  


  
\---

  
“I feel like there should be an instruction manual,” Liam said, frowning at the mess of wires that was concealing Zayn’s new stereo equipment. “Zayn, should there be an instruction manual?”

Zayn, who was a safe distance away, pushed his tongue against his cheek.

“Er, maybe. If there is, I’ve lost it.”

“Well, I’ll try my best without it,” Liam said.

“Do you want my help?” Zayn asked cautiously. “I could fetch tools, or --”

“Not a chance,” said Liam, elbow-deep in cables. “Go hang out with Louis and Harry or sit on the sofa and _stay there_. We don’t want another dryer incident.”

“It didn’t actually catch fire,” sniffed Zayn. He sat on the sofa, though, to watch Liam work instead of heading off to pester the other boys, which made Liam unreasonably happy. “There was a lot of smoke, sure, but no actual flames.”

“And that makes it okay?”

The way Zayn laughed was kind of ridiculous, but Liam would be lying if he said it wasn’t his favourite sound in the world.

“Yes, Liam. No flames makes the dryer incident perfectly okay.”

Liam grinned, untwisting a particularly stubborn cable. “Just making sure, you know.”  


  
\---

  
“You two look good together,” Zayn said, with a pathetic attempt at a smile. “Wish I could dance like that.”

Liam turned his attention from trying to make his phone background anything other than Harry’s naked bum, which he assumed was Louis’ doing, and caught a glimpse of himself and Danielle on the telly -- oh, right, that time they were on Dancing With the Stars.

“We do, don’t we?” Looking back at his mobile, Liam added, “Too bad she looks better with that American dancer from last season.”

For a long, long time, Zayn was quiet. Then -- “Jeff?”

“ _Annie_ ,” Liam corrected. To derail any sympathy that might be coming his way, he giggled and said, “I was her wingman.” Zayn didn’t join in the laughter, but there was a soft smile playing around his lips the next time Liam looked up, mobile background successfully changed.  


  
\---

  
It was all a little overwhelming -- having these four other boys crammed in such a small space and being told to get along, else he wanted to give up on his biggest dream -- and Liam was glad for some alone time and fresh air, even if the air did smell like horse dung and he wasn’t exactly alone.

He didn’t mind having Zayn with him, though, and not just because of the cow/possible axe murderer that could be lurking just beyond Liam’s poor night-vision.

“So,” Zayn said, exhaling a breath of smoke as he did, “Harry wants me to be his pillow, Niall wants me to be his personal comedian, and Louis wants me to be his partner in crime.” He took another drag of his cigarette and was illuminated, for a moment, by the small burn of orange. “What do you want me to be, Liam?”

“I want you to be quiet,” Liam said in the kindest voice he possessed.

It wasn’t that he disliked Zayn, or any of the others, but it was all so _loud_ \-- the laughter and music and ridiculous accents, all of which he could hear from inside the bungalow even though no windows were open -- and Liam wasn’t used to loud, not in the slightest. The pure noise of it all was starting to get to him, and he just hoped he hadn’t offended Zayn (because he’d already offended Louis twice today and he didn’t know how many more ‘sincere’ apologies he could make to these guys).

“I’m good at quiet,” is what Zayn said, though, and Liam closed his eyes gratefully.  


  
\---

  
The interviewer was pretty, but they were all starting to blur together so much that nobody but Harry was bothering to remember their names. She smiled at them, the kind that usually meant one or all of them were about to get themselves in more trouble.

“So you’re all quite close,” she said, gesturing at the way they were piled onto the too-small sofa. “Obviously. But are there two of you who are closer than the others?”

Liam thought he knew what was coming: Niall would laugh as Harry crawled over him to get comfortable in Louis’ lap, and jokes would be made, and Zayn would roll his eyes at Liam but make the most of the free space Harry’d left. That’s what he was expecting, anyhow, but before Harry and Louis could so much as look at each other, Zayn was talking.

“You know, everyone’s all about the Larry Stylinson,” he said, grinning. “But it’s _actually_ me and Liam.”

“Is it, now?” the lady asked, delighted by either his answer or the scandalised expression on Harry’s face. Liam knew that if Louis weren’t on the opposite end of the sofa, Zayn’s hair would’ve been attacked immediately.

“Yeah,” said Zayn. He pulled Liam in impossibly closer by the arm already resting on his shoulders and pressed a messy kiss to his temple. Now Niall started to laugh, and Louis joined him; Harry was too busy looking wounded by the implication that anyone in the history of the world was closer than he and Louis.

Aware of the eyes and cameras on him, Liam shrugged and laughed, “I suppose it must be true.”

He put his hand on Zayn’s knee for show, but left it there because he was warm and _Zayn_ and they were onto the next question anyway. It didn’t surprise him when he saw Louis flash Harry a thumbs up, hidden from the cameras by Niall’s head, but it did make him a little sad.

Zayn squeezed his shoulder like he knew what Liam was thinking -- and maybe he did, lord knew Zayn was always better at figuring out Liam’s thoughts than Liam himself was -- and Liam leaned into the touch, letting Louis answer the question about having a girlfriend while they were on the road for once.  


  
\---

  
Even though, technically, Harry wasn’t _allowed_ to bring the baby with him, he did. Liam was so glad it wasn’t his job to keep Harry in line anymore, for he could see this month’s PA flapping his hands helplessly over Harry’s shoulder.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” he cooed, interrupting the meeting.

Anyone who expected the other men to do anything but coddle her was either new or stupid, but Liam couldn’t help slipping into his old role for a moment, while Louis christened the three-month-old ‘Daughter Direction’ and Niall made ridiculous noises as he played with her tiny feet.

“C’mon, Hazza, we’re trying to work out reunion tour logistics,” Liam said, trying not to smile at the baby.

“Oh, stuff it,” said Zayn, shoving his shoulder. “I want one. Can we have one?”

“Biologically, no.”

Which was too bad, really, because the baby had Harry’s eyes and pout, and Liam could only imagine how unbearably adorable any children of Zayn’s would be.

Zayn just hummed, taking his turn to snuggle the baby, and Liam gave into the smile he was holding back.  


  
\---

  
“Can’t sleep?”

Zayn hovered in the door of the rec room like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. Liam smiled and moved his legs off the sofa so his bandmate could sit.

“Not a chance,” he said when Zayn dropped onto the cushions beside him. He pushed his bare toes under Zayn’s thigh for warmth. Also, because this band was starting to make him crave physical contact, but he tried not to advertise that fact. “You either, I see.”

“What, are you kidding?” Zayn asked, stroking his thumb along Liam’s anklebone.

“Yeah, I was listening to Matt practice, and, like, he’s _really_ good.”

Wrapping his fingers around Liam’s ankle completely and squeezing, Zayn said, “Hey, we’re really good, too.”

Still, Liam knew that the odds of going home had never been higher -- one in five -- and he was trying, really trying, to make himself okay with the idea of leaving X Factor, but it was a lot harder than expected. It had very much started to feel like _home_ , all domestic-y with Cher’s bobble socks and Harry supervising Louis’ expeditions in the kitchen and Mary’s laugh and _Zayn_. Everything about Zayn felt like home.

“When we go home,” Liam started, but Zayn cut him off.

“We _won’t_ go home, Li, stop thinking like that or you’re gonna jinx us.”

Liam smiled, wiggling his toes a bit.

“I meant when we go home in general, you big ape.”

“Oh,” said Zayn.

“Yeah,” said Liam.

“By all means, then, continue,” said Zayn. “When we go home...”

“Right, yeah.” Liam looked down then, fiddling with a loose thread on what he thought might’ve originally been Niall’s jumper. “When we go home, like, are we still going to... you know, talk?”

Zayn stared at him, then very suddenly manhandled Liam so he was lying down, facing away from the back of the sofa. Before Liam could make more than a single groan of protest, Zayn was lying with him, so close that the tip of his nose felt chilly against Liam’s cheek.

Once Zayn decided their legs were entwined properly, he simply said, “Of course we’re still going to talk. Christ, Liam, you really think we’d just dump you off in Wolverhampton and never speak to you again?”

“It was a possibility,” Liam muttered. Zayn pinched his upper arm.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Then Zayn fell silent, and Liam didn’t want to be the one to speak next. If Zayn just wanted a cuddle, Liam wasn’t complaining -- he so rarely did, it was always Harry or Niall who clung. He just hoped they’d put on a good enough show tomorrow, so he could keep doing it for as long as possible.  


  
\---

  
Zayn’s eyes were bright and lively when he said, “I thought you told the others we were having a dance lesson.”

“Well,” Liam shrugged as best he could, raised up on his elbows as he was. “I’m certainly helping you with your hip movements -- it totally counts.”

“Totally,” Zayn agreed, dragging Liam down into a searing kiss.  


  
\---

  
“Shit, Florida is hot,” Zayn said, fanning himself ineffectually with a magazine. “Why didn’t anyone warn us Florida was so hot?”

“People warned us plenty,” Liam said.

The other boys were currently attempting to dunk each other under the water, and Liam wanted nothing more than to join them, except that then Zayn would be left alone. Well, not exactly _alone_ , since there were security guys all around and a gaggle of girls who were watching them with interest -- either they recognised them as One Direction or they just found them attractive, Liam couldn’t be sure -- but still. Liam wouldn’t feel right if Zayn was the only one left sat on the beach.

“Well, I’m angry at past us for thinking it wouldn’t be so bad,” Zayn said stubbornly. He looked kind of hilarious, with his gigantic sunglasses and poofy hair (oh lord, what did Liam’s look like?) and arms all crossed like that.

Liam smiled at him. “Yeah, past us is terrible people.”

“Well, past me maybe,” Zayn said, looking out at where Niall was carrying Harry on his shoulders to get away from Louis, who’d somehow gotten ahold of a hermit crab. That seemed safe. “I don’t think you could ever be terrible people, Li.”

That was sort of the nicest thing anyone had ever said to Liam, but now Niall was shrieking his name and Zayn was laughing like ‘you’d better help him out’, so Liam stood up and went off to hit Louis round the head and make sure his boys were safe. He was Daddy Direction first and Liam second, after all.  


  
\---

  
Some mornings started nicer than others -- with a warm mouth or a cuppa -- some were less pleasant -- anything involving Louis Tomlinson and/or water -- and some were just plain confusing.

“Hey, Liam, get up.”

Someone was prodding at him, and if the voice had been anyone’s but Zayn’s, Liam would’ve ignored it, but as it was he squinted his eyes open and wondered if hangovers were always this bad and Niall just made it look easy, or if he really was a terrible lightweight like the boys said.

“Hng?” Liam grunted, and Zayn chuckled sympathetically, coming into his line of vision and blocking most of the light.

“You have to get up,” Zayn said. He was using his most persuasive voice, complete with teasing kisses to Liam’s jaw. “Nialler’s got himself a bit of a problem and he needs you.”

“Of course he does,” Liam sighed.

He brought his arms up and around Zayn to pull him down and kiss him properly.

“Your breath smells like you ate one of Louis’ shoes,” Zayn laughed against his lips, then pulled away. Liam tried the Puppy Eyes, but Zayn only shook his head sternly. “We have to go, babes, Niall caught himself a wife last night.”

“Did he?” Liam asked, not altogether surprised.

Zayn batted at the hand Liam had been trying to work into his jeans, fighting back a grin.

“Yeah, and now she’s threatening to take half his money _or_ sell the story. Either way, Niall’s in a pickle, and Louis and Harry find the whole thing too funny to be of any help.”

It seemed like Liam wasn’t winning this battle, so he groaned and sat up, petulantly keeping Zayn on his lap.

“I think I owe Harry money,” he said thoughtfully. “I said it’d be him and Lou that got drunkenly hitched in Vegas. It definitely seemed more likely.”

Zayn laughed, winding his arms around Liam’s neck. “And he bet Niall would make off with a stripper?” When Liam nodded, he rolled his eyes. “No wonder he’s not helping, it was probably all his idea. C’mon, up you get.”

“I need a shower,” Liam said, nuzzling into the scruff at Zayn’s throat. “You’re joining me, yeah?”

“Niall can wait half an hour, yeah,” said Zayn, eyes sparkling.  


  
\---

  
The first time they kissed was an accident, rough-housing at Harry’s stepdad’s place gone wrong, and Zayn’s lips had tasted like cigarettes and chapstick; Liam kept licking his own lips for hours afterward, even after he’d chased the taste away. The combination was a bit addicting, really, but even if Liam was a take-charge sort of guy, which he was not, privacy in the bungalow was unheard of. So, he pined. Just a little bit.  


  
\---

  
“Do you think we should fight?” Zayn asked, interrupting Liam’s daily check-in with Danielle. He put his mobile aside with the text half-finished to give Zayn a quizzical look.

“How do you mean?”

Zayn flopped onto the hotel bed beside him. “I mean none of us ever fight,” he said, “and maybe we should. I fought with my mates back home all the time, yeah, and I was thinking, like, maybe that’s why people think the five of us are so weird, because we just... don’t.”

Wondering just how high Zayn was, Liam pulled him in to lean against his shoulder, which Zayn took to mean ‘please use my lap as a pillow’ and so, consequently, did. He looked up at Liam with bloodshot, unfocused eyes -- very high, then.

“Because being angry with Niall is pointless, yelling at Harry makes you feel like you’re doing the moral equivalent of boiling live puppies, and it’s impossible to stay mad at Louis,” Liam said, slowing his voice down to Harry-speed so Zayn could actually retain the words. He wound his fingers through Zayn’s floppy hair and smiled.

Zayn smiled back, half-lidded and lazy.

“What about you and me, then? Why don’t we fight? Seems like we should.”

“Did you want us to start fighting?” Liam asked, bemused.

“ _No_ ,” Zayn said. He drew out the word like bubble gum, then giggled at himself.

“Then let’s keep on with the no fighting,” said Liam. “It seems to be working for us so far, dunnit?” Zayn made a noise of assent and closed his eyes. Liam had no doubt Zayn would be fast asleep within minutes, so he picked up his mobile to finish his text to Danielle.  


  
\---

  
Liam didn’t believe that it felt good at _all_ , but Zayn was writhing beneath him and making all these encouraging sounds, so he suspended his disbelief for the moment and concentrated on the task at hand. It was kind of cool; if he twisted his fingers a certain way, Zayn turned into a babbling mess, clutching at Liam’s shoulders for support.

“Can I --” Liam’s voice cracked embarrassingly, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Can I add another?”

“Um,” Zayn said, biting his lip. “Yeah, you can do that.”

Permission granted, Liam wriggled his ring finger into Zayn’s slightly-stretched hole and tried working the three fingers in slowly, but Zayn was having none of it -- he was rocking his hips down and starting to really _moan_.

Liam stared. “Does that even feel good?”

“What do you think?” Zayn asked, panting and sarcastic and smiling and god, Liam was in love with him. “Could be better, though, babe -- could be your cock.”

“I thought we, um,” Liam said. He was transfixed by the way he could crook his fingers and Zayn’s eyes would roll back in his head. If you asked him two weeks ago if he’d ever consider fingering another bloke, he would’ve blushed, stammered, and been, well, a little disgusted. He didn’t know it could be like _this_ , Zayn spread out under him, erection painful-looking against his stomach, teeth breaking the skin of his lower lip as he tried not to scream. He had no bloody idea. “I thought we were doing this in, in, increments.”

“Increments,” Zayn snorted, like he couldn’t believe Liam was using three-syllable words at a time like this.

A little offended, Liam reminded Zayn that it was _his_ idea to take things slowly in the first place, so he had no room to be upset.

Zayn said, “Yeah, but that was before I knew how it _felt_ , Li,” the second half of Liam’s name dissolved into a particularly loud moan, and Liam felt his composure breaking as quickly as it had been built up.

“Okay,” Liam said. “Yeah, I -- alright.”

When he tried to retract his fingers, though, Zayn whined, clenching around them like it would prevent Liam from taking them away. Liam laughed a little hysterically.

“I can’t just,” he said through his giggle-fit. “I can’t _fuck_ you without some serious lubricant, Zayn. Plus, you know, the condoms are in the drawer and -- you’re going to have to let me get those things if you want me to, er, fuck you.”

Grumbling something that sounded suspiciously like _lubricant_ , Zayn nodded and didn’t put up a fight this time when Liam took his hand away.

Still, Liam did what he had to do as fast as he could, and was back between Zayn’s legs before Zayn could even catch his breath. Liam positioned the head of his dick and, agonisingly slowly, pushed it inside Zayn.

“Oh,” Zayn said, a crease forming between his eyebrows. When he saw Liam freeze he shook his head. “No, no, keep going, it’s just -- you’re much bigger than fingers.”

“Thanks,” said Liam.

Zayn laughed. “Can you -- please, um, can you keep going? I’ll tell you if it hurts, yeah.”

Not entirely trusting that Zayn would actually do so, Liam went as slowly as he could manage with all his muscles protesting against it. He held tight to Zayn’s hips to prevent him from trying to control the speed, nails digging little half-moons into Zayn’s skin.

Liam had no words for how Zayn felt when he was all the way in except that maybe he should’ve given shagging blokes a proper chance way sooner.

He must have said some of that out loud because Zayn chuckled, wrapping his legs around Liam’s waist, and said, “Then you wouldn’t be shagging me, would you? You’d be -- be shagging Lou or summat.”

Liam didn’t really want to talk about Louis while he was experimentally - and _very_ carefully -- rocking into Zayn.

“No, I think,” he said, swallowing hard, “I think I’d always end up shagging you, in any universe, you know? No matter what.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Zayn said. Then, Liam thrust properly and he wasn’t able to form coherent words for quite some time, let alone full sentences to continue making fun of Liam, which was kind of the point.  


  
\---

  
“Hey,” said Zayn, sitting beside Liam on the deck of Simon’s house. “Trouble sleeping?”

“I’m a bit jetlagged, yeah,” Liam said absently. He was watching the way the moonlight hit the sea, making it shimmer. It shouldn’t have been so foreign, because there was certainly water and moonlight back home as well, but everything just _felt_ so different, and through his elation and anxiety Liam was more than a little homesick.

“What’s on your mind?” Zayn asked.

The thing was, if Liam didn’t want to tell him, he was fairly certain Zayn would leave it alone in a way their fellow bandmates would never be capable of. That was probably why he did tell him, because Zayn inspired that part of Liam, the part that kept things unsaid, to just open up and let his secrets out.

“Do you ever think, that, like, we’re too young for all this?” Liam swept his hand in a gesture that included Marbella; the upcoming live shows; the whole bloody ordeal.

Zayn was quiet for a long time, thinking the question over. Eventually he shrugged.

“Maybe. But it’s not like we’ll be this young forever, will we? Better to enjoy it while we are.”

He had a point. As they grinned at each other, the moon beating down and washing all the colour from their faces, Liam felt confident, for the first time, that he’d made the right decision in becoming a part of One Direction.  



End file.
